


The Ace of Spades

by FeatherFang



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Ace of spades, Gen, Its story, from a constest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 22:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11389338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatherFang/pseuds/FeatherFang
Summary: When people asked him why the gun at his hip was so important, why he picked it in the first place, well, he laughed. Becuase really, he didn't pick it, it picked him.





	The Ace of Spades

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very short Lore piece I wrote for a contest to get a replica of the Ace of Spades, The entry had to be no more then 400 words. But the contest either fizzled or the person who hosted it didn't actually announce when it was over and who one, which is a shame cause I would have liked to have read it.  
> Anyway, enjoy my interpretation of the Cayde's History with his favorite gun.

It was a field of skeletal buildings and blackened ground, the dismal tendrils of smoke curled toward the sky while tongues of flames still licked upon the surface of the earth. His boots crunched against the shambles of a once great city, now laid out in such disarray he doubted it would ever heal, only scar. It was there, among the scorched ground littered with pieces of people’s lives that he came across a gun half buried by a disheveled stack of playing cards, most of which were the same charred color as the earth. He reached for it, lifting the handgun from the ground, and watching as the cards fell away, all save one. Curious, he tilted the gun to look at the side, at the card stuck to the barrel, the end closest to him still touched by flames that slowly but surely were turning it to ash. So little was left, only a thumb print size remained white and without thinking, he reached out with his other hand and snuffed out the flames, brushing away soot to show the underneath. Despite the discord of the world around it, the small white spot of paper seemed determined to cling to its spot, the simple black shape upon it was the only clue of what it had once been. A spade. 

The clatter of rubble being shifted caught his attention in an instant and a beast with too many arms showed its face. The gun in his hand came to life and he twirled it on two fingers before it snapped into place and the hammer came down in an echoing snarl of combustion. With a hole through its skull, the beast fell and he heard the gun’s name on the click of its reload as the chamber rolled and he ducked for cover. The Fallen never traveled alone. He felt himself smirk at the realization, at the shred of paper that had fluttered off into the air as if its job were done. There would be more, many more, and they had all been dealt poor hands.    



End file.
